That is— not to imply the weeks have formed a deserted terrain, a dry landscape of silence. However. Time has been scant for long, in depth conversations with myself. Just a small minute here. A brief minute there. Too many hinderances emerged into the daily schedule of things. Corrections or clarifications. Maybe if I were a hardcore insomniac hours would appear more readily, moments of. Isolated freedom for finalizing a formal essay or two—
sometimes it is otherwise.